Red, Yellow, and Blue
by ryagelle
Summary: Another gift-fic for hoppersnail on LiveJournal; this one detailing the allusion made to Twins/Bluestreak in Unexpectedly Blue. Bluestreak is terribly upset, and Sideswipe is determined to cheer him up. G1, slash, plug-n-play.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was written as another gift for hoppersnail; it was originally intended to be a one-shot explanation of the off-handed mention of Twins/Bluestreak in Unexpectedly Blue, and I have decided to continue it due to popular demand over on livejournal. So, I present to you yet another fic that has snowballed into something far bigger than I had originally planned. I should have the next chapter up after I have the next part of Lapsus Memoriae finished.

Disclaimer: I never have, and never will, own Transformers, unfortunately for me.

* * *

Sideswipe wandered into the rec. room with his audios still ringing from the force of Ratchet's parting lecture, determined to get himself a cube of energon before he followed the medic's instructions and collapsed into his berth for some much-needed recharge. The battle earlier in the day had been particularly brutal, and though they had not lost anyone, it had been a very near thing for some. Ratchet had been in a bigger snit than usual as a consequence, and Sideswipe was glad that his own injuries, as well as Sunstreaker's, were relatively minor. He had taken advantage of the earliest possible opportunity to escape the medic's clutches; he really was too tired to listen to Ratchet bitch.

Primus, but that mech was scary enough that he could probably make the fragging _Cons_ toe the line.

Sideswipe snorted to himself in amusement at the mental image of Ratchet haranguing Megatron and Starscream into submission as he meandered over to the energon dispenser. He didn't know what prompted him to glance up after he had gotten his cube, but when he did, he couldn't help but catch sight of Bluestreak, huddled up by himself on a couch in the corner of the room. He frowned.

"Hey, Blue, you okay?" he asked, turning toward the young gunner. The grey mech's expression, usually so cheerful, was dull and listless, and the sight troubled the red warrior.

The only response Bluestreak made was to tuck his knees up under his chin, wrap his arms around them defensively, and look away from Sideswipe's gaze. Sideswipe gave him a puzzled look and made his way over to the younger mech; it was obvious to anyone with a set of optics that something was bothering him badly.

He gingerly sat down next to the grey gunner, setting his energon cube on a nearby table. "C'mon, Blue, you alright?" he asked insistently, placing a careful hand on the other mech's shoulder.

Bluestreak shrugged him off. "'M fine," he muttered, hiding his face in his knees.

"I doubt that," Sideswipe replied dryly. "You're not babbling my audios off—you can't be fine." The Lamborghini almost snickered when Bluestreak shot him an evil look, but managed to rein in his first impulse in light of how miserable Blue seemed to be.

"I wish you'd go away," Bluestreak said in a low voice.

"Not until you tell me what's bothering you," Sideswipe replied lightly, though there was a hint of steel in his voice—he meant it. He wouldn't leave until Blue was feeling better, no matter what he had to do to make it happen. It worried him to see the normally happy-go-lucky chatterbox so depressed.

"It's really nothing," the gunner insisted, fidgeting a bit. "Honest," he added, when Sideswipe looked unconvinced.

The red Lamborghini arched an optic ridge at him dubiously, and then reached for his energon cube, downing it in one long swallow. He sighed as he carefully set the empty cube down, and then stood up, tugging on Bluestreak's arm to pull him along. "C'mon, Blue, let's go play some video games. Maybe that'll cheer you up," he said, not relenting in his efforts until the gunner was on his feet.

"I don't know, Sides…" Blue said hesitantly. "I really don't want to be a bother to you and Sunny…"

"Nonsense!" Sideswipe airily waved away the younger mech's concern. "I want someone to play against, and if my glitch of a brother won't do it, then he deserves to be bothered when I find someone who will." He chuckled at Bluestreak's alarmed look. "Oh, don't worry, Blue, Sunny won't say anything," he said reassuringly. The gunner still seemed doubtful, but he followed Sideswipe without much urging.

By the time that the red Lamborghini had gotten him safely ensconced in his room (Sunstreaker had just given them a disgusted look and then proceeded to ignore them) and handed him a controller, Blue even appeared to have cheered up somewhat—at least, he didn't quite look so pathetic. Sideswipe was feeling rather pleased with himself after a few rounds of his newest video game, when he glanced at his companion and saw the brightened optics and the small smile playing about the gunner's lips.

"Pretty fun, huh, Blue?" he asked cheerfully, slinging a casual arm around Bluestreak's shoulders and drawing him close without really thinking about what he was doing. The Datsun stiffened at the contact; Sideswipe stared at him in surprise, game forgotten. "Blue?" he asked cautiously, uncertain as to why the younger mech would react so to a simple friendly gesture. Bluestreak just shook his head, and the red twin could feel him trembling ever so slightly.

Suddenly Sideswipe was hyperaware of the shaking body pressed against his own, and he watched as Bluestreak became conscious of that awareness. He supposed the lack of recharge was beginning to affect his CPU, making him think of Bluestreak like this, but he decided not to fight it.

_Not what I had in mind,_ he thought to himself in bemusement, meeting Bluestreak's optics with his own, _but this could be… fun._ Deciding to experiment a little, he leaned in and kissed the gunner.

The other mech's response was wholly gratifying, once he stopped trying to pull away.

Sideswipe could feel his twin's mind focus sharply on the pair of them, and acknowledged the yellow mech's wordless inquiry with an amused invitation to help without ever ceasing his attentions to Bluestreak. The gunner squeaked when Sunstreaker slipped onto the couch beside him and quite calmly ran a finger along the edge of one doorwing. Arching one optic ridge appraisingly, the yellow warrior applied both hands to the appendages, grinning a feral grin when Bluestreak's back bowed and he broke from Sideswipe's kiss long enough to groan.

"W-what are you doing?" Bluestreak demanded breathlessly, pulling back enough to look at the red twin, though it meant leaning further into Sunstreaker's caresses.

Sideswipe gave him an enigmatic smile. "Making you feel better. Is it working?" His fingers traced down the grey chest to circle the headlights, and Bluestreak gasped, dropping his head down to rest weakly on the red shoulder. Sideswipe chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes," he said huskily, right into the younger mech's audio.

Nothing more was said after that, for Bluestreak had finally decided to retaliate in kind. Following the twins' leads, his hands roamed over both of their forms, though he seemed more willing to interact with Sideswipe than Sunstreaker—probably because Sideswipe had initiated the encounter, and Bluestreak was more comfortable with the red twin than his more dangerous brother.

By that point, however, it didn't matter which of them he touched more often; they had opened the bond between them fully, and their minds had become so fully enmeshed that they were as one person with two independently functioning bodies. A caress had just as much effect on the one as the other, regardless of the actual recipient of the touch. Vaguely they were aware that Bluestreak had been reduced to helpless whimpers between them; it would not take much to get him to overload.

Creating the hardline connection to proved to be the gunner's breaking point. Their systems had barely synchronized when he toppled sobbing over the edge, and he dragged the twins with him as he went. The three of them sagged together on the couch, cooling fans whining from the stress of keeping them from overheating.

Sideswipe found that he simply did not have the energy to stay online, despite the cube of energon he'd consumed just a short time ago. He could tell that Bluestreak was already out from the limp way that the gunner was draped across his chestplate. Sunstreaker watched them both through half-shuttered optics; Sideswipe could feel both his curiosity and the fact that his brother was too well-sated to ask questions at the moment.

Grateful that Sunny had chosen not to press the issue for the time being, Sideswipe heaved a satisfied sigh and let himself slip into recharge.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Not as happy with this one, and it's a little short, but I finally managed to pin the muse down and finish it, so here ya go. Thanks, as always, go to VAWitch for beta-reading, and to all of the lovely folks who took the time to review.

* * *

Bluestreak onlined slowly, memories of the night before coming back in bits and pieces as he realized that he was neither in his quarters nor in the rec. room. For a long while he lay there, wondering what in the world he'd gotten himself into.

He finally allowed his optics to settle on Sideswipe and noted in the back of his processors that Sunstreaker was already gone. The red twin's expression was peaceful in recharge—and the recollection of what he'd looked like in the throes of passion rose up unbidden, causing the Datsun to shiver.

He wondered how on Cybertron he'd managed to go from avoiding a nightmare in the rec. room to spending the night in Sideswipe's arms after interfacing with both of the twins. After all, he was not the type of mech that Sides usually went for, being rather bumbling and inexperienced. If he'd ever spared a thought about with whom he would have shared his first interface, it certainly would not have been the _twins_. He was also under no illusions that Sideswipe was in love; that was not the red Lamborghini's style. It left him drawing a complete blank as to the big warrior's motives.

Sideswipe neatly derailed his musing by unshuttering his optics and giving the gunner a coy smile as he stretched against him luxuriantly. "Have a good recharge?" Sideswipe asked huskily, trailing a hand across Bluestreak's chestplate.

"Y-yeah. I guess so," Bluestreak stammered, and abruptly realized that it was true. His nightmares hadn't bothered him at all, and he stared at Sideswipe in wonder.

The red warrior arched an optic ridge. "You okay, Blue?" he asked, with a surprising amount of compassion.

Bluestreak ducked his head in embarrassment. "Ah—I'm fine, Sides, just a little, uh, nervous, I guess—"

"Nervous?" Sideswipe interrupted, looking astonished. "Now, Blue, you don't need to be nervous around me!" He regarded the younger mech thoughtfully for a long moment. "You were pretty upset last night," he said quietly, concern filling his tone. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," Bluestreak mumbled, refusing to meet Sideswipe's gaze.

The Lamborghini sighed. "Look, Blue, I gotta admit I'm pretty worried about you. It's not like you to be so…quiet."

"Look, I just don't want to talk about it, alright?" Bluestreak snapped, and immediately felt guilty at Sideswipe's startled expression. He sighed. "Why did you…do what you did last night?" he asked softly. Sideswipe shrugged.

"I dunno…" he replied honestly. "I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time. It was a little spur-of-the-moment, really. I just didn't want you to feel bad, and I thought that it would make you feel good." He shifted uncomfortably, seeming almost contrite. "I'm sorry if I just ended up making it worse—"

"You didn't," Bluestreak interrupted, and Sideswipe stared at him in surprise. "Make it worse, that is," he added hastily. "I do feel a lot better now, actually, it's just that I'm a little flustered, I guess, because it's not really something I've done before and—"

"Whoa, whoa, wait—it was your first time?" Sideswipe asked incredulously. "Primus, Blue, you coulda fooled me."

"Really?" Bluestreak asked shyly, watching the red mech with wide optics. "I was afraid that maybe you might have been disappointed since I really don't have any experience with this sort of thing and I've heard that you and Sunny have a lot—"

"Definitely no worries on that score, Blue," Sideswipe reassured him in a sultry voice, and Bluestreak shivered at his tone, though he wasn't completely sure if Sides was being honest with him or just saying it to keep from upsetting him. "You never did say why you were sitting in the rec. room by yourself, looking like you'd seen a ghost," the red Lamborghini commented a bit too casually.

The gunner looked away. "I—don't really like to be alone, and my roommate was still in medbay, so…" He shrugged as best he could with Sideswipe practically wrapped around him.

"But you were alone in the rec. room," Sides pointed out.

Bluestreak shrugged uncomfortably. "I wasn't _recharging_ alone in the rec. room, though," he replied, so quietly that Sideswipe almost didn't hear him.

"Ah. Nightmares?" Sides ventured, and the Datsun nodded minutely.

"Like I said, I'd rather not talk about it," he murmured and, miracle of miracles, Sideswipe actually dropped the subject. Suddenly Bluestreak found himself at a loss as to what to say. It was a rare occasion for him, and it flustered the young gunner.

Sideswipe heaved a sigh and sat up. "Y'know, Blue," he said, "you can stay here with us until your roommate's out of medbay. We certainly don't mind," and he leered at the younger mech, though Bluestreak got the feeling that it was more for effect than anything else.

"I—okay, I guess," he stammered. "Thanks!" He paused. "Are you sure Sunny won't care?" he asked apprehensively, and Sideswipe waved dismissively.

"If Sunstreaker doesn't like it, he can sit on it," the red twin said decisively. He cocked his head at Bluestreak's wince, and patted the grey shoulder comfortingly. "Aw, don't worry, Blue. Sunny will be fine with it, I promise."

"If you're sure…" Bluestreak said warily, eyeing his erstwhile lover.

"I'm sure," Sideswipe said cheerily. "Now, you better get on out of here, or you're gonna be in trouble for being late!" With that, he rose to his feet and gave the gunner a little tug to get him moving.

"Primus!" Bluestreak yelped, scrambling to his feet. "I have monitor duty this morning! Prowl is going to be so mad at me!" He bolted for the door and was out without giving Sideswipe a chance to reply.

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He was not quite certain how he managed to (just barely) be on time for his shift. It didn't take him long to grow heartily bored of staring at security monitors though, and the day dragged on interminably until Trailbreaker came in to relieve him. Bluestreak thought that he had never been so happy to see the black mech as he was at that moment; he had been unable to think of anything but last night for his entire shift, and he was in desperate need of a distraction from the doubts and indecision that plagued him.

On the one hand, his circuits burned with the memory of how it had felt to interface for the first time with not one, but _two_ mechs, and on the other, he burned with shame at the thought that he'd fallen for Sideswipe's charms. It was not as though he had been unaware of the red mech's reputation, so he couldn't claim to have been caught completely unawares—and yet, he himself would admit that he would _never_ have expected Sideswipe to show any interest in him beyond a distant friendship.

But still—last night, he'd fallen into recharge in Sideswipe's embrace and had not had a single nightmare about the battle. It was the first time in ages that bad dreams and twisted memories combining present friends with previous horrors had not plagued him in the aftermath of a fight.

That, more than anything, was why he found himself standing outside the twins' quarters despite his misgivings, trying to work up the courage to ask permission to enter. He wavered there indecisively for an indeterminate time, hesitantly reaching his hand out to the door chime only to drop it back to his side nervously at the last moment.

He nearly leaped out of his armor when Sideswipe's distinctly amused voice called from behind him, "Hey, Blue, you gonna push the button or are ya just gonna stand there for the rest of the day?" He whirled around to see the source of his discomfort standing in the corridor looking thoroughly pleased with himself, and Bluestreak entertained a brief fantasy of punching him right in his smug faceplate for startling him like that.

While the gunner was still fumbling for a response, Sideswipe brushed past him and entered the passcode to open the door. "C'mon, Blue, you might as well come in," he said, gently guiding Bluestreak ahead of him into the room.

Bluestreak fidgeted awkwardly as he watched Sideswipe sit cross-legged on his berth. Sunstreaker was nowhere to be seen; the gunner spared a moment to wonder where he'd gone.

"This really isn't right," Bluestreak suddenly burst out, causing Sideswipe to arch an optic ridge.

"What's wrong about it?" the red Lamborghini asked quietly. "We're mature mechs here, and it makes you feel better besides—you said so yourself."

The gunner shook his head. "I—thought that I'd, well… that I'd be in love the first time that I, ah…well, you get the point." He winced at that fumbling admission, but continued before Sideswipe could say anything. "I know that sounds naïve and all—but I had kinda hoped that it would mean something more than just a good time—"

"Look, Bluestreak, I was worried about you," Sideswipe interrupted firmly. "It may not be true love, but I _do_ care, and I was just trying to distract you from whatever it was that had you so torn up." He stood and drew the young gunner into his arms. "Friends help each other the best that they can—we _are_ friends, aren't we, Blue?"

Bluestreak shuddered in his embrace and laid his cheek against the red shoulder. "Yeah, I guess we are," he murmured, feeling comforted despite himself.

He didn't protest when Sideswipe led him to his berth, did not protest when he began to seduce him again. And afterwards, as they lay sated and quiescent, he very carefully didn't let himself think as the soothing rhythm of Sideswipe's fuel pump lulled him into another dreamless recharge.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, this one is officially complete. XD

Sorry for the shortness, but this is all the muse wanted to give me; if I'd tried to force more out of it, it would have come out as rambling, unfortunately. Anyway, thanks oodles to Readasaur, who inspired the title, and to VAWitch for beta-reading for me. . Also, to all the folks who reviewed: love ya all. XD

P.S. Mustn't forget hoppersnail, considering she was the one that prodded me to write this in the first place; I hope that this fic was what you were looking for.

* * *

It was over.

Just like that, it was over.

Bluestreak supposed he shouldn't have been surprised—after all, Sideswipe was really not the sort of mech to settle down with anyone—and besides, Sunstreaker still gave him nervous chills.

Honestly, though, what really surprised him the most was how little it had actually hurt. Sideswipe had pretty much given him the standard 'let's just be friends' speech, and yes, it had stung; but overall, looking back, he couldn't say that the red mech wasn't right. Moreover, the Lamborghini had seemed to be nothing less than sincere in his desire for Bluestreak's friendship, and he supposed that had to count for something. After all, most of the time, Sideswipe avoided any former lovers like the plague, at least for a while.

And yet, a few weeks later, with their friendship just beginning to smooth out, the red twin stood before him with optics as big as moons as he invited Bluestreak to a party he was organizing to celebrate a sound victory over the 'Cons. (The gunner supposed that Sideswipe thought the big-optic trick made him look more endearing; Bluestreak just thought he looked ridiculous.)

The grey Datsun heaved a long-suffering sigh and nodded. "Alright, alright, if it means that much to you, I'll come to your party," he said, cocking his head in amusement and arching an optic ridge when Sideswipe thumped him on the back with enthusiasm.

"Great!" he said cheerfully. "I'll see you there, then!" With that, he took off back the way he had come, no doubt to continue with whatever preparations that still needed doing. Bluestreak shook his head ruefully, and hoped that this wouldn't be as much of a fiasco as it was last time.

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He was slowly coming to realize that he was very overcharged.

That was okay, though, because everyone else was, too.

There were no officers at this party—which was actually pretty unusual, since Jazz generally tended to show up whether he'd been invited or not, and Ratchet was never one to turn down high grade—so they'd all really overdone it. Prowl had stuck his head in long enough to curl his lip in disgust and tell them that the ones who had shift in the morning had better not be late, and then left them to it.

Jazz had probably had something to do with his leniency; he always did.

Bluestreak was sitting only because Sideswipe was propping him up; he thought that he'd have been just as happy lying down, because the room was spinning awfully fast. They were all sitting in a circle, and somehow the discussion had gravitated toward pointless gossip: who was recharging with whom, who didn't have a partner, who nobody would touch with a hundred foot pole. Of course, there was much ribbing of Sideswipe; it was well-known that the red Lamborghini was rather indiscriminate about his partners. The current topic of debate was devoted to finding the one mech that Sideswipe would not—could not—seduce or otherwise interface with.

"Ratchet," someone said. Bluestreak peered blearily toward the source of the voice and giggled.

"Are you frelling kidding?" Sideswipe asked incredulously. "That old 'Bot hates my rusting innards." Bluestreak began sliding toward the ground, but Sideswipe put his arm around him and held him up.

"Are you saying you couldn't do it?" someone else asked innocently, and the gunner watched in fascination as Sideswipe scowled.

"I didn't say that," he said, clearly irritated.

"Then prove it," yet another voice said. They were all beginning to run together in Bluestreak's head by this point; he didn't even bother to look for the one that had spoken.

Sideswipe considered this for a moment. "You're on," he said finally. "If I lose, I give you lot a barrel of my high grade. However, you've gotta have something just as good on the table for when I win."

Bluestreak stared at the red mech in surprise. "You're not seriously gonna do something like that, are you Sides?" he asked, processors clearing a bit from the haze of overcharge.

Sideswipe shrugged. "Ratchet doesn't have to know why I'm after him. What he doesn't know can't hurt him," he said mildly. "Now, your part of the wager, gentlemechs?" The terms were quickly settled, and Sideswipe gave the datapad containing the bettors' information to the gunner for safekeeping.

"I still can't believe you're going to do this," Bluestreak grumbled, struggling to get to his feet as everyone prepared to go back to their quarters. "It's wrong on so many levels…"

Sideswipe hoisted him up and held him steady. "Relax, Blue, what's the worst that could happen?" he said airily, waving his free hand in a gesture of dismissal.

_A fragging Pit of a lot,_ Blue thought to himself.

And, looking back on the weeks that followed, he was right.


End file.
